Lou Sylvre's Blog

I was reading through some of my WIP, Finding Jackie and I ran across these few paragraphs. They made me smile even though it happens at a crucial point in the story. Sonny has insisted that one leg of their extended honeymoon consist of driving to Nebraska in a rented motorhome. (Luki, of course, never says no to Sonny, and it would likely make little difference if he did.) They're stopped and all set up at an RV hookup site, when they get the phone call from Luki's uncle Kaholo: Jackie is missing. Here's a short bit of what immediately follows:

Sonny, of course, had no qualms about driving The Monster really fast. “Here, Luki,” he said, before Luki even hit ‘end call’ after talking with Josh. “You put these away good enough they won’t fly around and break when we turn a corner. I’ll get this old girl all ready and get her fired up.”

Luki obeyed, stashing the glasses, plates, and knives with extra care, not wanting to get Sonny’s scolding, and besides it calmed his mind. While Sonny jumped—literally—out the door to pull plugs and roll hoses, he stacked dishes and tried to line his thoughts up just as neatly. Where to start? How to find Jackie’s trail? One step at a time. That was the only answer he could come up with.

“You done, Luki?” Sonny flung himself into the driver’s seat, and after a quick rattle of the keys and a single crank of the ignition, the diesel engine purred. “Seatbelt, honey. Let’s go.”
Luki jumped into his seat and pulled the belt across his lap as Sonny started The Monster moving, and by the time it was buckled, they’d made the turn onto the highway.

Sonny said, “Hang on.” This worried Luki. By now he was quite used to Sonny’s driving which often seemed wild, but rarely was, because he knew just what he was doing. The vehicle might spin, slide, or skid, but Sonny had control. It was crazy and it made Luki’s stomach do flips, but it didn’t really scare him—it kind of turned him on. But Sonny didn’t usually say, “hang on.” Luki wondered if perhaps he should have used the bathroom while he could.

His knuckles stayed white for the next half hour, until he acclimated himself to the faint squeal of tires, almost rhythmic on the winding road, the whoosh of cars and trucks as The Monster pushed past them, the rising pitch of the engine’s whine as they picked up speed on every downhill. Finally, he started to believe he was safe in Sonny’s hands even in the oversized vehicle, and he started to believe he would make it through without smoking, and he let hands relax in his lap.

“Sonny,” he said. “First, I love you. Also, I think this is going to be a hard thing for me to work out—finding Jackie.”

The Blog Hop Against Homophobia seems to have been quite a success. The winner of the contest I ran with the hop on sylvre.com has been announced--it was Treasure. Congratulations to Treasure and thanks to all!

Just thought I'd post a brief note here, that at my Wordpress blog, sylvre.com, I've posted my participating blog and contest for the Blog Hop Against Homophobia. This is timed to start tomorrow, May 17th, which is the International Day Against Homophobia. Here's a link for the organization behind the special day: Fondation Emergence

Visit my blog to enter my contest—you can win any Vasquez and James book. Click on the blog hop logo above (or find the hop on facebook) and get a list of more than 200 participating blogs, all with giveaways as well.

They had driven to Seattle from the Olympic Peninsula that morning before the birds were awake—or so Luki had complained. Even after years of Sonny’s influence, he hadn’t become a morning person, had no desire to do so, knew he never would.

They had taken Luki’s ice-blue Mercedes, aged by now, but still in good shape, because it helped Luki maintain the chilly facade that used to be his trademark when he was a full-time working detective. Now he only detected occasionally and ran his Security business mostly en absentia. Usually he could still call up the chill factor when needed, but this morning it had been elusive at best.

They stood in the bow of the ferry while they crossed the Puget Sound, then drove south over the familiar stretch from Edmonds and arrived at the cancer center in Seattle twenty-five minutes before Luki’s appointment time. It took twenty of those minutes for Sonny to convince Luki to go in—mostly using a technique Luki had come to think of as meaningful silence. Sonny was very good at it.

Now, in the car again after leaving the doctor’s office in discord ... utter discord, Luki felt the significance of Sonny’s silence aimed at him like a drawn and loaded bow. It felt ugly, but he couldn’t give Sonny what he wanted. Not yet. In an effort to ignore the facts, he asked, “Are you hungry, Sonny?”

“No, I’m not hungry! I’m flabbergasted that you didn’t answer that doctor. I’m too upset to be thinking about food.”

“Well, Sonny, I’m fucking hungry!” It felt kind of good to lash out, but that wasn’t enough to quell his own fear, his own anger, or his guilt for not acknowledging that Sonny felt those things, too. He looked around, taking in the lay of the land to figure out where they were in relation to the places in Seattle that he knew. “Let’s go to the Metro. It’s right around the corner.”

A mostly gay club, The Metro served classy beer and good food—ordinary things like hamburgers and steaks, but quality that justified the upscale prices. Still early in the day, the dim interior was sparsely populated, which was part of the appeal for Luki at that moment. Luki was recognized as soon as he walked in. As did everyone but a select few in his life, the staff at the Metro referred to him by his last name.

“Mr. Vasquez,” the bearded man at the door said. “We haven’t seen you for a while.”

He didn’t say a word to Sonny. This happened regularly, at the Metro, and though it didn’t bother Sonny at all, it ruffled Luki’s feathers. Seriously. Every time in the last six years that he’d been to the Metro, Sonny had been with him. They knew his name, knew he and Luki were married, that they lived together, loved together. And anyone with their eyelids halfway past their pupils could see that Luki and Sonny needed each other like clouds need sun—to exist. He supposed Sonny was probably right when he said it was because he blended, purposely, into the background, but Luki didn’t care about that.

Although he’d never been the kind of person to use his martial skills if not necessary for survival, his or someone else’s, at that moment in the Metro’s entryway, it was only to spare Sonny from mortification that he resisted the temptation to split the cheeky man’s lip.

All that aside, the Metro was as good a place as any, and if by some miracle he and Sonny stopped their mostly silent fight and wanted to touch, no one would get ugly about it.

They ordered burgers and fries—or rather
Luki did, because Sonny sat in silence ... meaningful silence, except for slamming down his silverware and glaring loudly. That should have at least got him noticed by the waiter, a man young enough for Luki to think of him as a boy and swishy enough for Luki to think Sonny was watching his ass. Which was completely stupid, but it gave Luki another reason to seethe.

Their food came, and brown bottles of Full Sail Amber Ale, which Luki had ordered, when Sonny refused to speak, because it was Sonny’s favorite. But Sonny didn’t eat or drink, and after two bites and the foam Luki couldn’t either. His stomach felt like there was a hot stone in it, growing with Sonny’s every movement and look.

Suddenly—or so it seemed—he could take no more. “Fuck, Sonny! Fuck!” His outburst turned every eye in the place toward him. Except Sonny’s. Defeated but only a little quieter, he said, “Stop, please. Of course I’m going to do the fucking treatment. I just wanted an hour, just a little time to pretend it wasn’t happening. Why couldn’t you let me have that?”

I admit it, I was surprised. Way back on February 5th I posted an excerpt and contest from my upcoming Dreamspinner release (to be out this summer) Yes: A Vasquez and James Novella. Yes, the book is about some tough times for the two devoted, loving men, and yes, it's a romance--happy ending and all. What suprised me was out of 125 views, only 2 people commented. Hmmmm.... food for thought.

Now the good news is both of those people win an ebook and the chance to have their words of advice for Sonny and Luki appear in the book's front matter. Clancy Ellis, and Kim Moore, you're winners!

Earlier this month I ran another contest, and I've got winners there, too. Elizabeth Noble and Vastine Bondurant win the Vasquez and James ebook of their choice!

Thanks to everyone for playing, and for reading whether you play or not.

Good Afternoon! I'm posting a second excerpt for the day, this one from Delsyn's Blues (which can be found, among other places, at Dreamspinner). This is Sonny trying to come to grips with everything in part by appeasing his sweet tooth. I think he's kinda cute, here, though sad. You can tell me what you think by leaving a comment here or emailing me at lou(dot)sylvre(at)gmail(dot)com, and have your name in the running for an ebook. There's two books to be won, and the two winners can choose Loving Luki Vasquez, Delsyn's Blues, or Yes: A Vasquez and James Novella when it comes out this summer. Here's the excerpt--and again I think this is one I haven't posted before, at least not all of it. Enjoy!

SONNY knew he should care a lot more about getting arrested for things he no way could have done, about people breaking in, about all of that. But he didn’t want to care. Luki—obviously—was thoroughly busy with the problem. Let him have it. Sonny had other things he wanted and needed to think about. Like Delsyn dying. Like Delsyn living.

Like Delsyn playing the blues.

He didn’t want to rush things, so instead of popping the cassette tapes into an old player, he took them to Port Angeles to a shop where they’d convert them to CDs. In the process, he discovered a 16mm tape he hadn’t noticed before. He had that converted to DVD. He successfully ignored Luki’s investigation for another twenty-four hours, then hopped in the ancient F-150 his uncle Melvern had left him as a legacy. After the key didn’t even crank the engine, he took it out of gear and hopped back out, gave the truck a push downslope, hopped back in and popped the clutch. On his way to P.A. to get the finished product, he didn’t think about Delsyn or various crimes. He thought about replacing the starter.

He drove through Port Clifton, which wasn’t quite on the way home, to stop at the store. He contemplated something alcoholic to help him through the hard parts. God help him, he once again contemplated dope, but he quickly discarded both ideas and settled for Rocky Road ice cream and a great big tin of Scottish shortbread cookies. Because, he freely admitted to the cashier, he was a little crazy. Making a last stop, he had a raspberry latte at Margie’s.

“So, Sonny, why are you driving that rusty bucket?”

“Mustang wouldn’t start,” he said, lying and pretty sure Margie could tell.

“Well, that’s kind of lucky, don’t you think? I mean, your Uncle Mel would have wanted to go along.”

Sonny laughed, and after that Margie found room in her freezer for his Rocky Road and chatted with him—or more accurately, at him—in the old way, not mentioning anything at all about death, murder, jail, dope, Luki, or anything else remotely related except her new PT Cruiser. But then at the end, she gave him another latte, free of charge. “You’re not the only one who misses him, you know. You’re certainly the one who has lost the most, but you’re not the only one who is sad, or hurt, or wondering how to fill up the hole in the world Delsyn left behind.”
“You miss him too.”

“I do, but I wasn’t talking about me. It’s good to see you in here again, by the way. I still wonder why you drink those silly coffees, though. See you soon, dear, and don’t forget to tell Luki I’ve always got a cup of coffee for him, black and sweet.”

SONNY parked the pickup in the yard, refusing the crotchety old thing the right to live in the barn with the Mustang, the Harley, and his auntie’s ridiculous but fragile ’72 Honda Civic. He wasn’t sure why his mood had lightened at least three shades, but he didn’t spend much time thinking about it. He wasn’t really the kind of person to get so very bogged down in misery, and now he had plans. He’d clean up the studio first—the rancid dyes had actually begun to smell up the rest of the house, and his fingers were starting to itch for the touch of silk and wool. Once he had his tools and space in order, he’d know what he wanted to weave. And what a relief.

Then he’d watch the DVD. See Delsyn again, he hoped. Hear his voice. Keep loving him, just as if he was alive. Maybe not, but better than nothing at all.

In the end, though, he didn’t deal with the studio at all. He let the screen door bang behind him as he ducked into the mud porch. Ignoring the strips of bark and thankfully dead but now useless cochineals, thankful that he’d at least dumped the smelly, spoiled dyes, he walked through to the kitchen to put the ice cream away and pried off the lid of the shortbread tin to eat a cookie. He thought about checking to see if it improved his fake Scottish brogue, but it never had before. The coffee pot was on, the coffee hot and smelling fresh, but Luki was nowhere in sight—not in the kitchen, the bathrooms, the bedroom, etcetera. Sonny thought about looking for him outside, or thought maybe he wasn’t there after all; maybe Rona had come to get him to figure out some legal thing that Sonny refused to notice.

But no. His shoulder holster was hanging on the back of the bedroom closet door. He wouldn’t have left it. Without having to think about it anymore, he knew where Luki was. Sonny could move almost silently, and he made it a point to be as quiet as he could on the way back to Delsyn’s room. It wasn’t that he wanted to surprise Luki. He only wanted to see him without the guard he would put up if he knew he was being watched. Maybe not nice, but Sonny didn’t care about that just then.

The door to Del’s room was open, the blue walls strangely aglow in the light that poured around the edges of the plywood he’d used to cover the broken window. The small lamp in the corner by Del’s bed had been switched on, and in the circle of light it cast, Luki sat in a T-shirt and striped pajamas, chewing his bottom lip and stroking the wood of Del’s old, now broken, guitar, tracing the scratches and scars on its surface as if reading it like Braille.

Of course, Luki became aware of Sonny instantly, and put the instrument down. It took him a minute to look up, and when he did, the look on his face gave away Luki’s feelings—a rare event in itself. Luki grieved. Sonny couldn’t understand now why he hadn’t seen that, expected it, even. The two of them had grown close—Luki and Del. Sonny had been happy for that at the time.

“He loved you,” Sonny said.

“You sent me away.”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.” Sonny thought of how lame that must sound, but he had no solution and just then he felt overwhelmed with all the things he’d done wrong—even if you just counted the last few days. But he tried to explain. “Luki, it was like… it hurt, but the pain was all I had of him toward the end. Stupid, I know, but I couldn’t share it.” He didn’t know what else to say, so after a moment’s silence, he added, “But I love you. And… will you watch Delsyn’s DVD with me? Want some Rocky Road?”

Luki sent him an almost-smile, nodded. “Sure. But hamburgers first. I’ll make ’em. You have to have something solid in your stomach before the shortbread.”

“You and your hamburgers,” Sonny said. “And I didn’t say anything about shortbread.”

“I need hamburgers to keep my strength up. You’ve got crumbs in your beard.”

“I don’t have a beard.”

“I know, but if you did, there would be shortbread crumbs in it.”

Good morning!

This is one of my favorite sequences from Loving Luki Vasquez, (available at Dreamspinner) and I'm not sure if I've ever posted it as an excerpt before. Regardless, a big step in their rocky path toward loving each other, and in the book the jumping off point for some action. I hope you like it. I always welcome your comments!(I'll be back this afternoon with an excerpt from Delsyn's Blues, too.) Oh yeah! I forgot, giving a book away in exchange for a comment here or an email to lou(dot)sylvre(at)gmail(dot)com. Names go in the hat for a random cat-chosen winner. Loving Luki Vasquez, Delsyn's Blues, or Yes: A Vasquez and James Novella when it comes out this summer (winner's choice).

RIVER sounds climbed the muddy bank where Luki stood shivering in moonlight so bright it glared, and he had to shield his eyes. He knew there were other kids in the water, though he couldn’t hear them, could barely make out the dark shapes of their heads, like shadows. He heard a call from a short distance off to his left, and when he turned his head, there was another shape. A boy, and something gleaming silver in the air.

Again he heard his name. “Luki, come on over here. I’ve got something for you.”

“Not again, no,” he whispered to himself.

“Yes,” Ronny said. “Again, and again, and again….”

Luki cried out, woke, and rolled instantly off the bed and onto his feet. Sweat soaked him, and the left side of his face burned as if newly slashed. Fear, then grief took their brief turns with him, each like a punch to his throat, cutting off his air. He hurried past them and embraced rage, stood in its white-hot flame until, for this time, it burned itself out.

He knew the drill, knew the dream, knew how to shake off its remaining shards.

Seconds after he woke, he gauged the light and estimated, morning. Which, he knew, demonstrated his brilliant powers of deduction. “Better than Sherlock Holmes.”

As an alternative to testing his detective skills, he looked at the clock. Eight thirty. Still early by his standards, but he never contemplated going back to bed. He stumbled into the bathroom to vomit—an old and bothersome reaction—not even trying to hold it back this time.

Thanks to his invisible housekeeper, who came every day in his absence, somehow always knowing when he‟d be gone, he had coffee ready to brew by the cup. He brushed his teeth so he could enjoy the taste and did just that. Two cups of black and sweet, into the shower, out again in no time. He put on his old and ragged clothes. Yes, he had some. He remembered Sonny’s blunt question. “Why the getup?” He almost smiled, almost wished the intriguing… frustrating and intriguing man could see him now.

Meanwhile, he got out three handguns of various sizes and capabilities, placed them in a case designed for just that purpose, and added ammunition. He kept his firearms, always, clean and in perfect condition. None of his weapons were intended for sport. Intimidation, protection, and defense constituted the mainstay of his profession and of his habits; a life, even his own, could depend on them. And honing all his skills, working them to stay in top form, fought off the dream and the havoc it would otherwise wreak. Guns and targets this morning, and then perhaps tai chi—which he considered the best and deadliest of his martial arts.

By the time he'd driven to the range outside of Port Angeles, reassured himself, and impressed his fellow shooters, the need for breakfast finally caught up, so he stopped at Front Street, a corner restaurant that served steak and eggs seasoned and cooked to perfection. On the way back to Port Clifton, he set his phone on speaker and delegated the day’s work to his various staff, using his fabulous office admin as a go-between.

“They won't listen to me, boss. You know that.”

“Contrary, Jude. I know you put fear in their hearts every time you speak, and they wouldn’t dare go against you. Make my nefarious plans your orders, and they’ll get it done.”

“Are you coming back soon?”

“No.”

“That’s all I get, just no?”

“Yes.”

After an exasperated groan, Jude hung up. For the second time that day, Luki almost smiled. Which made him think maybe he should go back. Port Clifton was turning him soft.


FOOD digested, business taken care of, cigarette half-smoked, he decided to go straight down to the beach. He could have gone home. He had plenty of room in his condo, or on the balcony, for tai chi. He had a key to the top floor gym, a luxurious space that boasted a three-sixty view. But luxury had never seemed right for tai chi, and, Nebraska child that he was, saltwater still fascinated him.

Besides, this was the closest he’d ever come to a vacation. He might as well at least make a pretense of it.

He drove a little way past town to a stretch not lined by houses and not crowded with people—in fact, it looked deserted. Perfect. For the first part of his tai chi practice, he always worked carefully and slowly through forms; for the next part, he “fought” target posts of various sizes, each about two inches in diameter. In early days, the posts had been wrapped with padding and duct tape, but once he’d mastered the art, he left them bare. The “give” had to be in his own hands, his own stance, and that’s what imbued his blows with deadly force.

He took the targets out of the car, removed his shoes, and walked across the beach to the edge of the water, where the wet sand provided a perfect base. After he’d set his poles and taken a minute to perfect his state of mind, he began the first form, working thoughtfully, slowly, aware of every muscle, every move.

By the time he'd finished, the sun had risen almost midway. With heat and exertion, he'd broken into a profuse sweat. He turned his face into the breeze, let it riffle his curls, took his shirt off, and tossed it to hang on one of his targets.

A dot in the distance moving up the beach toward him. A person. Sonny, no flags in sight.

Crap.

Oh well, no problem. If there was anything he knew how to do, it was shut out emotional disturbance. He’d just continue with his practice, maybe work another form first, as if Sonny weren’t there. But with Sonny’s long legs, he covered a lot of distance in a short time, and now he’d come almost close enough for eye contact. My God, the man is beautiful.

“Hey,” Luki said.

“Hi.”

“Nice out, huh?” Oh, yeah. Great. Talk about the weather.

Sonny ignored the comment.

Thank you, universe.

“It‟s like dancing.”

The conversation seemed like some kind of mirror image of the last time they spoke, when Sonny was checking out colors, which certainly weren‟t all the same, or so Sonny informed him, leaving him to feel foolish. Nice thing was, now they were in his territory. But he had no taste for retaliation.

“It‟s been called that. Tai chi.”

“Oh. Yeah. I’ve heard of it. Sort of dancing that can kill. Seems exactly right.”

Luki didn’t know what he meant by that last remark, so he stayed silent.

“It’s graceful, the way you do it.”

Luki remained at a loss for a response. Was that a compliment?

“I‟ve even thought about trying to learn it. But I could never get away from my studio—or maybe I should say get my studio out of my head—long enough for anything like that.”

Luki still said nothing, but now he subtly eyed Sonny from head to toe—a pleasant undertaking but one with purpose. “You’re in good enough shape to do it well.”

“I suppose.”

Luki didn’t know how he could speak and hold his breath at the same time, but it felt that way. “I could teach you a little,” he said, “right now.”

To his surprise and nervous delight, Sonny agreed after only a second’s hesitation. Soon Luki had him barefoot and mastering a perfect opening stance. From there, he taught him some traditional warm-ups—not part of the forms but a good way to get the feel of the art. Though his long, loose limbs gave him some trouble and made Luki want to secretly and fondly laugh, and though Sonny giggled—yes, giggled—at a few of the early warm-ups, he attended well and learned fast.

They’d reached the last of the warm-up exercises: Pushing Chi. A little more complicated than the ones that came before, it took focused coordination. When Sonny could Push Chi with acceptable grace, Luki decided to introduce him to at least part of the Chen form: First, he revisited the simple but all-important Opening Movement. Then, Pound the Pestle, Lazy Tying Coat, and Six Sealing,
Four Closing.

Single Whip led into White Crane Spreads Its Wings, the name of which made Sonny adorably… all right fine, adorably happy. The sequence involved motions that at first felt counterintuitive. Like probably every student in the centuries tai chi had been around, Sonny needed help with it. As he would with any other student, Luki stood behind him, using his own hands to guide Sonny through the move. He wondered if he could get away with teaching him all the rest of the moves in just that way. Perhaps for hours. Every day. For a long time.

As he was teaching and wondering and probably even almost smiling, a wind rose up, splashing spray and sand and whipping Sonny’s long hair at Luki’s face and right into his mouth. On the word “open,” appropriately enough.

Sonny spun around, gathering up his luxurious baked-earth red hair. Before Luki had a chance to close his mouth, Sonny kissed him. A passionate, seeking sort of kiss. A kiss that Luki instinctively returned, though kissing wasn‟t a large part of his intimate life, and especially not kissing on the beach.

As suddenly as he started it, Sonny ended it, leaving Luki bereft… frustrated and bereft.

Sonny turned away, refusing eye contact. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I shouldn't have done that.” Without any further explanation, he stepped away.

Luki knew fear, could spot it from afar and pick it out in a crowded room. Right now, it ran hot through Sonny’s veins. He reached for Sonny’s arm. “Sonny, what….” What are you afraid of? he ended the question silently. Sonny had already gone.

Luki hated roller coasters, both the mechanical ones and the emotional. In response to hating it, he relaxed completely, letting his tension be soaked up in the wet sand. Then he took that emotion out on his targets. Using tai chi fajin in a rapid-fire assault, he took every one of those posts down before they knew what hit them. Especially the last.

“You never even saw me leap, you stupid post.”

It's still Saturday night where I'm at, for another 25 minutes. I'm going to sleep, then I'm going to get up in the morning and post one excerpt from Delsyn's Blues and one from Loving Luki Vasquez (since that's where it all began), and I'm going to give away 2 ebooks.
Oh, and I might also post a few lines from current Vasquez and James WIP, Finding Jackie. I hope you'll stop by!

Clear back on March 2nd, Critter Nymph, of Literary Nymphs, reviewed Delsyn's Blues and gave it the maximum, 5 nymphs. I don't know why I didn't see it before but now that I have, I want to share!
Here's the last line:

"The mystery will hold your attention till the last page and keep you reading late into the night."

To read the rest of what Critter Nymph had to say, here's the link to the review on Literary Nymphs Reviews Only.

Sonny walked out of the house carrying an empty basket, planning to take the sheets and blankets off the line. He had dyed and woven the sheets himself, heavy winter silk for this time of year, as a gift for Luki, and for himself, too. He loved them best when the sun shone for a day and he could dry them outside. They tossed like brilliant flags for hours, and when he put them on the bed they smelled of the wind. But on the way to his task, he caught sight of Luki practicing Tai Chi in the wet sand at the edge of the waves...

I'd rather not post X-rated on Goodreads, so if you'd like to see where this leads, follow this link , and go to message #294634. (Just because, in the novella Yes , the guys are having a rough time, doesn't mean their not going to have a bit of fun...)